


Never Ever

by GreyMichaela



Series: Never Ever [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dean can't help himself, M/M, PWP, drunk!Castiel, plotwhatplot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is millenia old and never had a blowjob.  Dean is having difficulty adjusting to this information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Ever

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my very first time writing fanfiction and it ended up a completely porny one-shot. Please be nice, but if you like it, then comments or kudos will absolutely make my day. :o) Many thanks to bigblackhorse4, who held my hand throughout, beta'd beautifully, and kicked my arse until I posted this.

“Never?”

Castiel shook his head, looking unnerved.

“Never ever?” Dean knew he sounded a little deranged, but he was having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of a millennia-old angel that had not once in all his many centuries of life, received a blow-job.

Cas took another swig of beer, avoiding Dean’s eyes.  “It never came up.”

Dean snickered and Cas looked confused.

“’Came up?’” Dean snorted into his beer and Cas’s brows drew together.

“I don’t understand,” he said flatly.

Dean grinned and slapped the angel on the shoulder.  “We’ll get you there, buddy. I’ll have you down in the gutter with me before closing time.”

Cas eyed the clock on the wall dubiously. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean said. “We’re going to need more alcohol.” He lifted a hand and signaled the waitress, who smiled at them and went off to get them another round. It wasn't like they didn't have the time to kill; with them between jobs and Sam off visiting an old ex-girlfriend, Dean was at loose ends. Getting drunk with Cas was just as good a way to spend the evening as any other.

Cas looked...tired.  His lips were tight, eyes shadowed.  It had taken him almost fifteen minutes to appear after Dean had prayed to him and he seemed distracted, his mind elsewhere.   

The weirdest thing, though, was the way his knee kept pressing against Dean's under the table.  The first time, Dean thought it was just an accident and he'd glanced at Cas, who was staring into his beer.  Dean moved his leg away and kept talking, telling the angel about his and Sam's latest hunt.  A few minutes later, he felt the knee again, resting lightly against his.  Dean stared at him but Cas's face was blank, listening calmly to his story.  Sighing internally, Dean resumed talking.  It wasn't like Cas was molesting him; if it made the guy happy to press their legs together, Dean wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. 

Three hours later, most of the lights in the bar were off and the waitress wasn’t smiling quite as brightly. Dean fished his wallet out of his pocket, blinking owlishly at the tab she slid in front of him. He gulped a little at the amount but pulled out the card with the highest limit.  Mr. Albert Franconia would be happy to pay for this part of Castiel’s worldly education.

Speaking of…Dean glanced over at his friend, who was still upright but swaying slightly. His dark blue eyes were a little out of focus, but he was watching Dean as closely as he could, despite having to blink much more often than usual.  Dean swallowed under the weight of that gaze.  Sometimes it struck him just how much Cas had seen in his life, all the amazing shit he’d been through.  Wars in heaven and hell, the fall of Babylon, the rise and fall of the Roman Empire…sometimes, although Dean would never admit it, Castiel intimidated the hell out of him.

Cas’s eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter as an enormous belch ripped free.  He covered his mouth, looking chagrined, and Dean burst out laughing.

And other times, it was just Cas in front of him, serious, loyal, and just a little bit silly without meaning to be, and Dean remembered why they were friends.

Dean signed the credit card slip, leaving a generous tip for their very patient waitress, and heaved Cas onto his feet.  “C’mon, pal. Let’s get you horizontal before you puke all over the floor and our server has your head.”

“Not…g’na…” Cas lost his train of thought and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

 _Thank God the motel was just next door,_ Dean thought.  He was out of breath by the time they stumbled across the threshold and shoved the door shut with his foot.  They made it to one of the queen beds and collapsed across it in a pile of arms and legs.

Cas groaned. “Mmph.  Dean.”  He turned his head, his eyes closed.  Thick, dark lashes lay heavy on his cheeks and Dean found himself swallowing hard.

“You okay, Cas?”

The angel nodded without speaking, scooting towards the sound of Dean’s voice without opening his eyes. He didn’t stop until their shoulders were pressed together as they lay flat on their backs.

Dean stared at the ceiling, more sober than he wanted to be.  He’d known he could drink Castiel under the table any day of the week. What he hadn’t counted on was finding the drunk angel so very… _alluring._ His hair stood on end in a messy tangle that begged to have Dean’s fingers in it and Dean couldn’t look away from Cas’s mouth, those full lips moving soundlessly as the angel…dreamed? Was he asleep?

Castiel’s eyes popped open, answering that question.

Dean held his breath as they locked gazes.  If they rolled onto their sides, they’d be nose to nose.  He mentally shook himself.  Why was he even thinking that?

Cas hadn’t looked away, his eyes roving Dean’s face as if hungry to memorize every feature. He lingered on Dean’s mouth and Dean swallowed convulsively again.  _He was straight. Straight as a board._ He thought desperately back to their waitress’s assets, trying to call to mind her curves, but the dark blue eyes inches from his own scattered his wits, making it impossible to focus.

“Dean…” Cas’s voice was gravelly and seemed to shoot straight to Dean’s groin.

“Hm?”  Dean couldn’t remember how to form words.

“I was wondering…when you’re finished with your sexual identity crisis, may I kiss you?”

Dean froze, then rolled sideways to put a little space between them.  Unfortunately, he forgot where the edge of the bed was and slid right over, landing with a hard thud that knocked the wind out of him.

Castiel’s worried face appeared over the side.  Dean lay flat on his back, laughing at the ceiling even as he struggled to catch his breath. Cas’s concern faded to irritation and something else…hurt, quickly masked.

“Never mind,” he growled.

Oh, this wouldn’t do. Dean scrambled to his knees, catching the angel by the lapels of his trench coat.  They both stopped moving, faces scant inches away, until Dean threw caution and his heterosexuality to the wind, fitting his lips to Castiel’s.

Cas’s hands rose to cover Dean’s where they gripped his coat.  His mouth was soft and warm under the hunter’s and it opened for Dean without prompting, a slow sweet drag of lips and tongue and needy moans that Dean swallowed down without breaking their connection as his tongue slid deeper, offering a give and take that the angel was quick to pick up on, and Dean began to harden in his jeans.

Finally, his knees began to protest being on the unforgiving floor and he sat back on his heels, gasping for breath, still holding on to Cas’s coat.  The angel blinked down at him, sprawled on his stomach, lips kiss-swollen and his face flushed.  Dean had never seen anything more beautiful.

He stood up, bracing himself against the bed until the room stopped swaying.  Cas sat up, still silently watching him with dazed eyes.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked him.

Cas nodded wordlessly.

“Do you want this?” Dean pressed. It didn’t matter how turned on he was; if the angel wasn’t sure, they were done for the night.

Cas nodded again, his eyes clearing. Dean looked closely. Beneath the pleasant haze of the alcohol, he could still see the sharp intelligence of his angel and it was focused on him.  _Wanting_ him.  Dean swallowed again. _God,_ that was sexy.

He crawled onto the bed, crowding right up into Castiel’s space until the angel was forced to fall back on his elbows.  Straddling the shorter man’s prone body, Dean lowered himself until their groins were touching. Cas’s eyes fluttered closed and he moaned, deep in his throat.

“Is this what you want?” Dean whispered.  He ground his hips against the angel’s, a slow dirty roll that had the angel whimpering, hands coming up to grip Dean’s biceps and hips thrusting up helplessly to meet Dean’s grind. 

“You have to…tell me, Cas…” Dean managed. Sensation was flooding him and he couldn’t focus.  “Is this…Cas…do you want this?”

Cas’s eyes snapped open. There was hungry desperation in his gaze.

“You,” he husked. “I want _you.”_

Dean shuddered and dropped his head, capturing Cas’s mouth.  This wasn’t the soft, inviting kiss of earlier; this was hungry, ravenous, a plundering of lips and tongues and teeth, and Cas was giving as good as he got, growling into Dean’s mouth and fisting his hands in Dean’s hair.

When they broke for air, they were both trembling.  Dean hid his face in Castiel’s neck, fighting to control his breathing.

“Fuck, what you do to me,” he whispered, and planted a line of wet kisses from the angel’s collarbone up to his jaw, enjoying the way Cas arched his back and leaned into his mouth, moaning helplessly.

Finally he sat up, still straddling Cas’s hips.  The angel stared up at him, pupils huge in the dimly lit room.  Dean shucked his jacket and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off over his head. 

Castiel sucked in his breath and Dean grinned down at him.  Very few people would categorize Dean as modest, and he knew perfectly well what the sight of his muscled chest was doing to his partner.

The angel lifted a hand, the tip of his tongue trapped between his teeth, and looked up into Dean’s face as if asking permission.

“It’s not the Smithsonian, Cas,” Dean said.  “You’re welcome to touch.”

Still, he caught his breath when the angel planted his big hands on Dean’s abdomen and began to explore in earnest.  Long, clever fingers trapped one of Dean’s nipples and tweaked it lightly.  Dean swore, arching his back and shuddering as Cas smiled and did it again.  Dean’s head fell back as the angel’s fingers pinched and rolled the sensitive nub into a tiny peak, electric currents of pleasure shooting straight to his cock, trapped within its unforgiving denim prison.

“Cas,” he finally gasped, unwilling or unable to stop him, but desperate to be out of his jeans and have Cas naked as well.  “If you don’t want me coming in my pants like a horny teenager, please, for the love of all that’s holy… _stop._ ”

Cas’s fingers stilled and Dean looked down into his face.  The angel was smiling and Dean couldn’t stop himself from taking another kiss before pulling away and standing up.  He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, kicking them away, standing in front of Castiel in only his boxers, tented obscenely.

It was Cas’s turn to swallow hard, and then he was moving as well, rolling off the bed in the other direction, yanking his coat off and tugging his shirt off so quickly he popped several buttons.  Dean heard them hit the floor and roll, but he was too busy devouring the sight in front of him to pay much attention. That damned trench coat hid far too much and Dean couldn’t get his fill of Castiel’s firmly muscled arms and the lean chest with the scattering of dark hairs.

When Cas was down to his boxers as well, he stood for a minute, suddenly unsure of himself. He lifted his eyes to Dean, who was staring at him like he was a twelve course meal and dessert all rolled into one.

“C’mere,” Dean growled, and Castiel shivered and obeyed, crawling back onto the bed. Dean pushed him onto his back and the angel went willingly, sprawling against the pillows.  The hunter hovered over him for a minute before swooping down and capturing a nipple in his mouth, crouched between Cas’s knees.

Cas arched against him, a strangled cry escaping his throat and his toes curling.  Dean’s teeth scraped against the sensitive bud, rolling and flicking it with his tongue before releasing it and beginning to lick his way down Castiel’s chest.

Cas fought for air as Dean worked the angel’s boxers down far enough for his cock to bob free. Dean pulled back far enough to admire the sight of it dripping pre-come onto his lover’s stomach and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and taste it.  It was salty and a little bitter but not unpleasant, and he licked his lips and grinned up at Cas, who had two big handfuls of bedspread and was holding on for dear life.

“I seem to recall that someone’s never received a blow job before,” Dean teased, and blew lightly on Castiel’s damp glans.

Castiel choked on air, unable to respond.

“I think we should remedy this situation,” Dean said, and dropped his head, sliding Castiel’s cock between his lips.

Cas’s hips bucked up despite himself at the feeling of the wet heat enveloping him and he groaned aloud. Dean’s hands steadied him as his tongue flicked against his slit and Castiel sobbed for breath, his entire body shaking as he struggled to remain still.

Dean swirled his tongue around the head of Cas’s cock as he gripped its base and began a steady rhythm, methodically taking the angel apart one quivering, moaning piece at a time.  Maybe he'd never done this before, but he knew how he liked it and damned if he wasn't going to make this the best experience of Castiel's life so far.

Cas’s world contracted down to the onslaught of sensation between his legs, Dean’s hungry mouth swallowing him down, throat working convulsively and fist pumping.

Within minutes the angel could feel the orgasm building, coiling low in his belly, his cock thickening even more. Dean felt it too and hummed encouragement, sliding his free hand down to cup Castiel’s sac, thumb stroking his perineum.

“ _Dean…_ ” Castiel began, and then he came, jerking and beginning to empty into Dean’s welcoming mouth.  He arched off the bed with a shout, helpless against the crashing waves of pleasure that thudded through him, setting all his nerve endings alight. Dean swallowed it down, groaning and rutting against the mattress, unable to stop himself even as he rode out the aftershocks of Castiel’s ecstasy. 

When the angel finally collapsed back against the mattress, still quivering, Dean pulled free and wiped his mouth. He crawled up the wrecked man beneath him until he was straddling one of his legs, his erection a hard line against Castiel’s thigh.

Cas tried to work a trembling hand between them but Dean caught it and brought it to his lips, sucking two fingers into his mouth.  With his other hand, he freed his cock from his boxers, eyes falling shut as he stroked himself. It didn’t take long, only a few frantic pumps of his wrist, before he stiffened and Cas felt hot wetness pulse against his hip.

Dean collapsed across him with a groan, face buried in Cas’s shoulder.  They lay that way for several minutes, relearning how to breathe.

“Jesus,” Dean mumbled after awhile. “That was…amazing.” He lifted his head to look down at Castiel.  “Was it…are you…” He trailed off, unsure what to say.

Castiel smiled up at him. “If that’s a blow job, then I am in wholehearted support of the idea,” he said, and Dean snorted a laugh.

“Yeah well, next time you can try it on me.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Cas assured him, and Dean grinned down at him before leaning in for one more kiss, long and deep and full of all the things he couldn’t quite say yet. He didn’t need to, though; his angel understood.

FIN


End file.
